Malachi had already enjoyed entertaining his fellow Gulf monarchs in the city of Tlalim, a city affectionately known as "Half our Destiny" by the Kodimans. Once they had left their homeland in the 4th Century BC they had established a new home away from where every Kodimans heart lay, Jerusalem, the city that formed the other "Half our Destiny". Nothing would have made Malachi happier than to bring the Holy City under his control, resurrect the Temple and hold dominion over it, but that was a fantasy and not a foreign policy decision. The best Malachi could hope for was the city of Kodima, "The First of Many", a city that had housed the first refugees and grown over the centuries from a village into first a fortress town, then the centre of an Empire that had thrust southwards until it had bathed its feet in the Kyne sometime in the 17th Century. It would be this city, modelled as closely as they could on Jerusalem that Malachi would host Emperor Benson. The man may be the worshipper of false Gods but that was not his fault as the Paracambian had not had the fortune to be born into their faith. That didn't mean he couldn't be a good friend, it just meant that he was a man with whom trust would need to be built up with first, baby steps designed to lead down a path where they grew ever larger until they could be the best of friends. The Royal
Palace complex had been freshly prepared. Staff had been out sweeping the large marbled plaza that separated the Emperors dwelling from the Imperial Office where the day to day business of the Empire was carried out.
Malachi and his wife, the Empress Nitzan II waited in the lounge of the highest tier of their Palace watching the neatly dressed white uniformed Imperial Guards run through their final preparations. Prince Meir, the heir to the Imperial throne was keeping a closer eye on them a camera in hand. The 25 year old fancied himself as somewhat of an artist and went nowhere with his camera or sketchbook. As the men drilled the Prince happily took image after image and his father would be content today to allow him to take no part other than the official photographer of the occasion. Meir had plenty of time to learn the ropes of diplomacy and having done his national service at 18 he had only just finished University recently graduating with his degree in Classical Art.
Meir was waiting really for the Paracambian Emperor and his entourage to arrive and had taken up position with the Guards between him and the gate to the Palace complex. The complex had a long straight road that lead to an air-base used by the military but also by the Imperials, it was convenient enough to make transfers speedy and effortless but far enough away that the city could almost appear tranquil. The small cloud of dust on the road indicated that Benson must be close and Meir motioned up to his father who made his way down to the Plaza itself accompanied by the Empress. They were content to allow Meir to set himself up as he wished and the Prince snapped several shots of the car entering the archway and pulled up in the centre of the Plaza, the only time a vehicle was allowed onto the marble centrepiece. The Guards gave a salute as one of their officers opened the door and offered a more personal greeting. Malachi walked forward his hand already extended in friendship. "Emperor Benson thank you for coming to our home. I'm excited to have you as our guest. I hope you had a pleasant flight?" He could see his son Meir moving round to get several shots and was sure Benson wouldn't recognise the young man. "I am afraid we had to document the occasion of such a visit, today my son Meir is our official photographer, maybe not a traditional Princely past-time but art is a noble virtue I believe, I just suspect his pallet is a shutter button rather than a paintbrush. I hope you don't mind him taking the pictures?"